


the fix for yesterday's ails

by MagpieQueen



Series: Works for others [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry desperate sex, Blindfolds, Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Freaky android abilities, Loving relationships, M/M, Power Dynamics, Voice Imitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 00:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16691959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieQueen/pseuds/MagpieQueen
Summary: Connor snorts, the sound that leaves him not his anymore.“What, I thought you wanted me to shut the fuck up earlier today?,” Gavin’s hoarse voice filters through his lips, his tone low and mocking. His nonchalant attitude seeps through and it’s so easily recognizable to Hank that it instantly infuriates him, his fight or flight instinct activating immediately, his thighs tensing as he senses a tongue darting out to lick up his drooling cock.





	the fix for yesterday's ails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Manicies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manicies/gifts).



Humans are not easy to deal with, Connor thinks.

He’s been built to be with them, to _understand_ them, to read them to perfection, and still— they insist on defying every single thing he knows about them when it matters the most.

Most of the time it makes no sense to his extremely logical side. Humans are social creatures, but often deny themselves all chances to speak up when it matters, when something bothers them.

Things that could easily be fixed and talked through are left unsaid, untreated for them to fester.

He tries to understand, but he himself shares no such logic, because besides understanding social cues and behaviour he’s also been made to speak, to _woo_ , to convince. To talk things through. His understanding of communication and its importance is complete and so absolute that he often favours talking above everything.

So.

It’s extremely hard when Hank refuses to talk to him— when his humanity gets the best of him and he clams up, when goes quiet and angry over things that Connor has no way of helping with, until.

Until he talks with RK900.

It’s dubious at worst and entirely too enlightening for him to ignore. He feels like a fool for not having thought of his idea sooner: it’s direct and potentially extremely _enjoyable_ for him and Hank, he just needs to know what bothers him, and— and he already knows for a fact _who_ usually makes things worse for Hank.

He just didn’t know what to do about it.

Now he knows.

——————

It’s very easy to plan for the idea that Nines had given him: it’s a waiting game, because the tensions in the DPD can only stay at bay for so long before someone explodes.

So he waits, and waits, and waits for the perfect moment for his plan to succeed.

It doesn’t take long— just a mere three weeks.

They’ve decided to take the afternoon off for themselves after Hank had stormed out of the pen after one too many confrontations with Reed that day. He’s angry the entire drive home, cursing under his breath and restless over it, over _him,_ unwilling to admit how bitter it made him to fight Gavin like that all the fucking time.

Connor knew that they had gotten along, once. He understood.

They get out of the car together and Hank breathes and exhales like he’s run a marathon. He’s worked up, too prideful to accept that sometimes he purposely fights Reed over things that he _knows_ the Detective is right about.

Hank’s completely unable to accept Gavin’s annoyingly cocky attitude; how _laissez faire_ he is about everything, nonchalant and uncaring just up until the minute is right for him to care— cautiously calculating everything until his eyes are set on the prize, on the next big case, on that one tip, on the final clue on how to crack the guilty men that they bring to the station.

He hates how often Gavin manages to fool everyone, including him, before getting what’s best for himself and leaving most of them behind, just like that.

Easy as pie, just another lie.

“Just- just _fuck him,_ you know?” Hank mumbles as he opens the door to their house, both of them shucking their shoes and hanging heir coats. Hank leans down to pet Sumo, who has run over towards them, over excited for their early arrival.

“I know.” Connor just looks at him and smiles, shrugging like he always does when Reed manages to get into their conversations, into their home.

He smiles at him instead.

“Hank,” He shuffles close to him, eyes loving as he moves to caress his cheek, splaying his fingers to run the tip of his digits through Hank’s nicely trimmed beard: he looks even more handsome now that he’s started to care after himself. It makes Connor smile; plans and everything, he can’t resist leaning close to kiss him real quick. “I’ll let Sumo out for a while. The sun is very nice today, he’ll like it.”

“Hmmh.”

“Don’t you wanna join us?”

Hank doesn’t exactly _pout_ , but he gives him a face nonetheless, leaning to kiss him again and pat his cheek.

“Nah, I’ll be fine here, no vitamin D for me today.” He replies, waving his hand as he moves away to sit on the couch, letting a weary sigh escape his lips as he does.

Connor stares at him, squinting his eyes a little bit as he does, thinking. He walks to the back door to let Sumo out to rest and bask in the afternoon sun, enjoying the breeze.

“Have fun!” Hank mutters at him like one would to a particularly annoying situation before turning on his heel and making for the living room in swift, rather heavy steps.

Connor, for lack of a better word, _hates_ it when Hank gets like that over Reed, so it’s easy for him to cement his decision right then and there, standing in the frame of the kitchen door as he stares at Sumo, who boofs ahead him as he moves to find his favourite spot on the backyard.

Well, then.

Connor returns to Hank with a smile on his lips, hips swaying with intent. It makes the lieutenant look up from the sofa, his eyes darting away from the magazine he was eyeing to properly stare at him.

Connor’s artificial belly tenses with anticipation, and he beams at Hank before sliding right into his lap, thighs parting to accommodate the bulk of his size.

“Hey,” he starts.

It makes Hank sigh. He drops the magazin as his hands come up from his sides to hold Connor by the hips, thick fingers rubbing at the faux muscles through the light fabric of his clothing, holding him with more strength than he usually uses as Connor shuffles on top of him, inching closer until his hips are flush with Hank’s.

“Hey.” Hank’s breath hitches, his pupils dilating just so.

Connor knows that Hank can rarely resist him, and never when they are alone and things are going good for the day, and Connor, well. He’s never even had a moment in his life where he’s wanted to deny Hank. He’s never had a reason to, their moments together always being tender—soft. Fiery, but loving and _kind,_ Hank showing him the ropes and then making him struggle against them so, so tenderly that it’s all that Connor knows from experience.

He’s very glad of it, but at the same time… He’s _extremely_ looking forward to what he’s about to do.

“Con…” Hank’s voice is quiet, a little bit defeated, ready to excuse himself and his anger away. He runs his thumbs over Connor’s thighs again and again. He’s still bordering on furious, even if he’s not showing it as fervently as he did half an hour ago.

He’s ready to say no to him because he never really wants to have sex with Connor while he’s angry.

The android is sure that it’s an overprotective _human_ thing, knowing that the protectiveness, although appreciated, is completely unnecessary for someone like him.

It’s very nice, though. It makes him feel cared for, and he wants to pay that back—however he can. He loves Hank so much that his chest burns with it, but that day he’s got plans, and by rA9, he _likes_ those plans.

Still, after a while of him sitting astride on Hank’s lap it’s fairly easy to make him start to pay attention to his extremely forward advances. He gently undulates his hips to rub his clothed semi erection against Hank’s slowly hardening cock.

“Let me,” he continues, his voice enticing. They are so close together that Connor can feel Hank’s body heat seep into the depth of his chassis, deep under the silicone and plastics. “Let me help you relax, please.”

He murmurs against him, lips catching and caressing each word over Hank’s parted mouth. He gives him tiny little kisses as he pleads, inching closer once he’s done so he can deeply kiss him for a moment. Hank shivers with it and Connor retreats to pepper kisses against his lips, nuzzling against the scruffy hair of his jaw and cheeks.

His hands make themselves busy, his left sneaking up to hold him by the collar of his shirt, encouraging him to start rutting against him, the other softly petting at his head, running his fingers over and over again through the long silver hairs, scratching at his scalp until he can feel Hank surrender under him.

“Let me take care of you, Hank.” Connor steals another kiss from him, hips grinding down just the way that Hank loves. “Please?” He bats his pretty eyelashes at him, the brown of his eyes looking like honey whiskey in the sunlight.

Without accounting for human unpredictability, his success rate stands at a solid 75%.

He waits, slowing down the pace of his hips to something that’s maddening— even for him— as he continues to nuzzle and lovingly pepper kisses wherever he can reach. “Please.”

Hank shifts, hands reaching out to rub against the warmth of Connor’s back, his fingers tracing each synthetic bump of his vertebrae through the thin white shirt that Connor wears for work.

It’s slow, methodical: Connor can almost see the gears turning in Hank’s head: he can most definitely pick up the miniscule cues that let him know of his answer before Hank even replies.

“Yeah, alright.” He breathes, nodding his consent and swallowing thickly, moving an inch closer to kiss Connor and show how much he means it, tongue slipping between his parted lips and licking at the roof of his mouth, making the android on his lap arch, moving once again in a nicer, pleasing pace.

Connor lets him, kissing him back.

His thirium pump starts working faster now that he knows what’s about to happen. He rests both his hands on Hank’s shoulders and without breaking the kiss, he pushes him backwards until he’s crowded him against the backrest.

He slowly separates their mouths, conscious of Hank’s need to inhale.

“I’m all yours,” Hank breathes. His lips are now shiny with spit, almost imperceptibly swollen. His mouth is left parted as he cranes his head slightly up to look at Connor like he’s the 8th wonder of the modern world.

Connor smiles at his words, soft and loving. “I know.”

He straightens his back to stare at Hank, eyes crinkling while he carefully undoes his tie from where it rests on his neck. He runs his fingers through the material, easing the wrinkles. He hums, considering.

“Gonna make me miss your pretty face?” The irises on Hank’s eyes are starting to swallow up the cool baby blues that Connor loves so much, arousal evident as he licks his lips in anticipation.

“Yes, I am.” Hank shivers, eyes glued to Connor’s, drinking him in. It makes his thirium pump stutter with how much he wants him, with how much he loves him. “You know I’m never gone for long, Hank.”

Hank breathes out a laugh as he bows his head. “I know.”

Connor fastens the tie against the back of his head, efficiently blindfolding him and then pausing, considering for a second before making pretty bow out of it, too, just because he can.

Hank exhales carefully, letting himself be controlled by Connor. It’s exhilarating.

Allowing himself to be controlled is not something that comes easily to him: he’s still learning. He breathes just like Connor has taught him, and he exhales carefully, suddenly aware of the tension that plagues his body as the android leaves the warmth of his lap, sliding down his body to kneel in front of him.

Hank blindly reaches and caresses the nape of Connor’s head, thumbs rubbing at the muscle there, welcoming him.

Connor hums approvingly as he runs his hands through Hanks thick thighs, his fingers splaying and pressing down to feel the muscle under the soft layer of fat, squeezing softly until Hank parts his legs further, just enough so he can comfortably undo his belt and lower his zipper, his warm hands carefully pulling out Hank’s half hard cock.

Even while not fully erect, Hank’s cock is still meaty and thick—Connor licks his lips in anticipation, a bolt of pleasure running down his spine as he sees a drop of precum that has begun to bead at the tip of his half exposed glans. Greedy, he leans down to lick at it, kissing the tip and swirling his tongue around the head to get him wet enough to slide down his shaft gracefully, bobbing his head slowly, sucking and starting to coax him to full hardness.

“Yeah, like that.” Hank’s breath hitches for a second, his hands jolting as he unconsciously clenches at Connor’s nape. He inhales, getting his bearings and moving to rest the weight of his hands on Connor’s shoulders.

Connor hums again, this time with his mouth full of Hank’s hardening cock, working his head up and down to get more and more inside of him, his thirium based saliva easing the way and slipping down the sides of his mouth as he mentally prepares himself and checks what he needs for what he’s about to do.

His first step is already done: Reed’s voice is already saved and functional, ever since Nines had mentioned his brilliant idea to him. The rest is easily done.

The blowjob’s gets messier, the sounds of it starting to be downright obscene, and when Connor pulls off he does so with a wet smack of his lips. Hank’s breath hitches with the sound, shaking with how much more he wants.

“Con…”

Connor ignores him as he straightens his back, running his hands through his own hair to undo his perfect hairstyle, his fingers running through the soft strands to let it fall down messily on his forehead.

He runs his hands over his jaw, concentrating on the synthetic fluid that makes up for his skin and hair enough to give himself a hint of stubble, and he resists the urge to laugh as his fingers run through the short hairs on his jaw. It itches him, the hair foreign to his usual self, and that’s decidedly a weird feeling for him.

Still, it does not matter. It’s all for Hank.

(And for him, but he’d rather be deactivated than admitting out loud that he’s looking forward to what comes next.)

He concentrates on the skin that runs through the bridge of his nose, thickening it where he knows that Gavin’s scar goes, imitating it as best as he can—the indentation can’t be the same without his chassis being damaged, but he can pull off a decent imitation of it with a denser concentration of skin there.

It’s imperceptible to a blindfolded man who is certainly going to be too busy to notice.

He moves back to nuzzle at the soft skin of Hank’s inner thigh, mouth parting and lips moving up and down the side of his shaft where a vein bulges almost obscenely. He darts his tongue out to lick and slurp until he’s reaching the reddened, wet head of his cock.

Hank _immediately_ notices the change.

“W-what the fuck?” He nearly jumps out of the sofa in his surprise, the sound that escapes him when he feels the stubble against his thigh a combination of a shaky moan and a gasp. He jerks against it, fingers tensing on Connor’s shoulders to try and pull him off.

It’s on.

Connor snorts, the sound that leaves him not his anymore.

“What, I thought you wanted me to shut the fuck up earlier today?,” Gavin’s hoarse voice filters through his lips, his tone low and mocking. His nonchalant attitude seeps through and it’s so easily recognizable to Hank that it instantly infuriates him, his fight or flight instinct activating immediately, his thighs tensing as he senses a tongue darting out to lick up his drooling cock. “Not gonna shove your dick in me to do it?—didn’t take you for such a fucking coward.”

Surprised and restless, Hank moves for a moment, deciding whether or not to get up and run. It’s clear that he’s thinking about it, hands clenching harder on Connor’s shoulders. _Shaking._

Surprised and so, so angry again. He growls deep in his chest, and Connor, settling on the role that he’s taken, snorts.

Gavin snorts.

“Yeah, I figured you didn’t have it in y-”

Hank growls again, one of his hands moving to clench at Gavin’s hair, harshly pulling and _lifting_ him to guide him back to his cock, pressing Gavin’s stubbled cheek against his shaft and his other hand moving to hold the meat of it between his fingers so he can guide himself towards his face.

Gavin keens, legs tensing under him.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole- yes, I do, _fuck-”_ Hank pants as he rubs the reddened head of his cock against Gavin’s face, smearing skin and stubble with precum. It’s filthy and it makes Gavin gasp, a surprised squeak leaving his mouth as he opens his lips to take him in. He greedily sucks down, both his hands moving to bat Hank’s hand away and hold him steady, gripping the base and working him as he goes down, messy and rough.

“Fuck, _fuck,_ God, I knew you loved to suck cock, ga-” Hank chokes on his words as Gavin sucks hard on his glans. “Ah- _god_.”

There’s a hum that reverberates on his dick as Gavin laughs. It vibrates around him and it threatens to send him over the edge way too quickly. Hank jerks and squirms, moving to pull at Gavin’s hair until he stops doing _that._

Gavin shrugs, moving downwards to properly lap at him, suckling around his shaft and slurping noisily before removing his hands to hold himself steady on Hank’s thighs. He starts to lower himself more, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go, lowering and bobbing his head until he’s beginning to choke.

“ _Shit.”_ Hank pulls on his hair again, harder this time, groaning and encouraging him to press further down, pressing him downwards until he can hear Gavin’s legs kicking against the rug on the floor.

Gavin moans as best as he can before being completely cut off with how thick Hank is. His hands clench for a moment as he takes one final breath before popping the engorged head of Hank’s cock down his throat, squeezing it past the tightest ring of it.

He makes a sound, a desperate fucking thing as he chokes on it, gurgling on saliva and filling himself until he can’t possibly take more of him, nose pressing against the hair on Hank’s groin. He’s swallowing desperately, shaking, his body randomly jolting with the effort to keep himself still— until he almost violently pulls away, panting and spluttering as Hank holds his head still. Little _ah’s_ leave his mouth as he tries to catch his breath.

“Do it well or don’t do it at all.” Hank’s voice is rough and heavy with lust as he orders him around, moving both his hands to hold his head, one curling at the nape of his neck and the other readjusting on his hair. He pulls on the strands as he lowers his head again, guiding him back to down on his girth and using him without consideration.

“ _Gh-”_ Gavin chokes again and again, the garbled sounds of his gag reflex trying to work around Hank as his throat is fucked begin to fill the room. His hands start to spasm after a few seconds of being worked with that rough rhythm. It’s the most intense thing that he’s ever felt and he’s loving every second of it. He holds onto Hank’s pants as he clenches his throat, saliva and precum running down the curve of his chin as it drips low below his neck. His shirt has begun to stick to his skin with how wet it is.

Gavin makes little desperate sounds that battle to escape from him as he’s being choked, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks, his chest hiccuping around air that’s no longer there as thick droplets of clear thirium begin to run down his nose, making him slobber further on Hank’s cock.

Hank moans, unabashed, bucking his hips into that perfect, wet heat. The pleasure builds fast in his gut, coiling and twisting with every filthy sound that escapes Gavin’s stuffed mouth.

“You were made for this, weren’t you,” Hank huffs out, feeling how he’s steadily getting closer to his climax. He can feel it in the way his legs tense, how his back arches and his grip on Gavin gets tighter.

Connor silently agrees, proud of his perfect, beautiful simulation; careful of keeping up the illusion even while almost lost in the haze of his mind numbing pleasure, the sensors of his tongue being overworked, forcing his mind to process, process, process—

He can’t quite keep up.

His legs kick again, and as he chokes on another wet sound he decides that that’s enough, that he wants to take more, wants to physically drain the anger and frustration out of Hank. He growls as he pulls himself off his thick, oozing cock, his jaw clicking a bit as he experimentally closes his mouth.

“G-gavin! Christ-” Hank whines, fisting his hair and trying to fight him back into submission, too proud to ask for _more, please, Gavin_. His dick twitches against his belly, the head of it an angry red that begs for attention, precum steadily dripping out of his slit.

Connor wants to dive back in, stuff him back into his mouth, but his plans are different for that evening. Still, he makes a note to remind himself to keep Hank lodged deep in his throat for as long as it’s possible some other time that week.

“Phck, that’s all you’ve got?” He snorts, trying to clear his rough, used up voice. Clear tears run down his face, adding to the mess that’s already there. He swipes the heel of his hands against his upper lip, trying to clean the thirium lubricant that has managed to run down his nose in thick droplets. “That’s sad, old man.”

“Screw you,” Hank breathes, hands pawing and trying to reach him.

“Hah, sure.” Connor snorts with Gavin’s voice, enjoying himself way too much. He makes quick work of his pants and underwear before climbing over Hank’s lap with shaky legs. Hank runs hot under him, and Connor resists the urge to melt against him.

“Guess I’ll just have to take what I want from you,” His voice is shot to shit, his voice box affected by the rough treatment near it. Connor _loves it,_ lives for it at that moment, his cock begging for attention between his own legs. He pays it no mind.

Hank tries to move out from under him, desperate to fuck him already, and Gavin laughs, raspy and low. One of his hands snakes towards Hank’s chest, pressing down and grabbing at the softness there, gripping hard and keeping him right where he is. He tuts.

“Nuh-uh.”

Connor moves his free hand between his parted legs, momentarily activating his self lubrication system so he can efficiently fuck himself with two fingers, scissoring them and opening himself as fast as he can, managing a third before becoming too impatient, greedy and needing Hank inside him already.

He gasps as he slips his fingers out, reaching for Hank’s cock. It’s hot and heavy against his hand, slippery wet with his own spit.

He starts to slowly, very slowly, spear himself with Hank's cock. “Oh, oh _god, f-fuck yes.”_ He moans unabashedly.

He’s not worked open enough, the length inside him splitting him open, and he forces his body to accept it, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he does so, back tensing and curving with the effort that every measured movement takes.

“Oh, _god.”_ Hank writhes under him, hands flailing and moving to try and hold onto anything he can reach of the body on top of him: his hips, his thighs, the curve of his ass.

Connor convulses, a full body jolt that sinks him further down, his insides spasming around Hank. He fights himself to keep up his act and not ruin his illusion by immediately becoming a sobbing, wet mess.

It’s really hard.

“Fuck, I knew you were big, but-” He gasps with Gavin’s voice, struggling with the rising tide of his own pleasure.

Hank's hands tense on his ass, fingers digging against the soft faux flesh there—and he tries to press him lower, making Gavin whine and splutter on his lap, thighs shaking with the effort of staying still, refusing to surrender himself to Hank's urges.

“Ah- good- good fucking try, but you are gonna take what I give you.” His voice is breathless but confident, and it makes Hank want to slap him a couple of times and fuck him stupid.

“Come on, I don't have all day.” Hank’s voice may not waver, but they both know that the bravado there is fragile, and it stirs something deep inside Connor: the desire to absolutely _wreck_ him. He opens his mouth and Gavin laughs, twitching once more around him and making Hank see stars.

“I said,” He starts again, sinking himself an inch lower before lifting his hips to only leave Hank's swollen head inside of him. “You are gonna take what I give you. Understood?”

Hank's hands shake, and he exhales heavily through his open mouth. “Fuck. Y-yup. Got it.”

Connor waits, clenching once more and making sure to leave Hank desperate enough that he squirms, curving his back and lifting himself off the backrest, the swell of his belly tensing and rubbing against Connor’s dripping, untouched cock.

He shakes but his hands don't try to press him further, and Connor knows that he's ready to go to town, now.

He does exactly that.

He huffs, Gavin's rumble of laughter ringing low and shaky as he rubs his own cock against Hank's stomach once, twice, the sensitive skin there dragging against the soft hair as he presses himself against the fat of his belly, his movements minuscule and needy, before spreading his thighs and sinking himself in one go on Hank's pulsing erection, his needy hole open wide with the thickness of it.

“Oh, Christ-” Hank shakes under him, and has no time to catch his breath before he is being used, the android fucking himself with Hank’s throbbing dick, both his hands pressing against his chest, fisting his colourful, patterned shirt.

Connor can’t think properly: It's too much, too big, every movement that he makes causing Hank to press directly against his prostate. He blinks a couple of times, trying to clear his visual input of the several warnings of overheating, of breaking something, of-

He moans with another man’s voice, ragged and so, so pleased. He _loves it._ He's never felt so overwhelmed with his own desire, with the need to go rougher, faster— to split himself in half with Hank's dick and actually being able to do it as dirty and raw as he pleases.

He's needed this, too.

He can feel his self lubrication activating again, this time without his permission, his precious control slipping from his fingers.

He's not in his right mind to give it much thought- all that there is in his mind is Hank, Hank, _Hank,_ and _keep up the act-_

“Mhh- ah, aaah, Ha- _haank.”_ His rhythm is fast and relentless as he uses his entire body weight to move harder, sinking himself all the way down and pressing himself further down still every couple of thrusts, rubbing his insides as much as he can.

Hank moans under him, pleasure so intense and so good that it barely lets him think. He's not used to this- to being used so blatantly, intensely aware that the man on top of him is chasing his own pleasure and he's just there for the ride, subject to his whims and loving every second of it.

The thought makes him whine, a desperate sound as he lets himself sink back in the sofa, letting himself be used however Gavin sees fit.

“F-fuck, that's it. God, y-you really wanted this, huh? Look at you,” Gavin's voice pitches higher whenever he sinks down, the pressure punching the breath out of him, and he sounds _wrecked_ , too. “All mine.”

Hank whines, a sob escaping from his open mouth. He can’t stop himself from making noises, desperate gasps of Gavin’s name as his big, warm hands roam over the body on top of him. He shakes his head no, but he moans _yes, yes, yes,_ heart hammering inside his chest and threatening to escape. “Oh- oh _god._ ”

Connor takes Hank’s hand and guides it to his own mouth, desperate for more. He licks at his fingers, pressing them against his mouth, rubbing his raw lips over them, nuzzling the skin, scratching his stubble as he does so.

“Come on, Hank-” He moans, fucking himself with a relentless pace, almost hiccuping the words as tears fall down his cheeks. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

It makes Hank moan underneath him, hips bucking as he wordlessly obeys, planting his feet on the floor and snapping his hips up as he shoves two fingers inside the wet heat of the android’s mouth, pressing against the sensitive tongue there and fucking in and out.

Gavin makes a noise, a choked staticky thing as Connor almost soft reboots, his eyes rolling back and almost going completely blind for half a second.

The sensation is extremely good. He can sense trace amounts of Hank’s pre in his fingers, can taste his cock there, his CPU reeling with the extra information thrown in. He sobs: broken, desperate sounds escape him as he bounces himself harder on Hank’s lap, his thirium pump regulator threatening to pop right off his chest.

He’s so close. He can see a threatening countdown on the edge of his sight, announcing his impending climax.

He clenches around Hank, feeling more than seeing how he tenses under him, his cock twitching inside of him, fucking him loose as his rhythm begins to falter.

“Oh- oh _god, fuck, fuck-_ ” Hank moans, thighs shaking and hips stuttering, faltering in their pistoning—the molten heat of his pleasure too intense for him to focus.

Connor opens his mouth and lets the fingers slips out to curse, stuttering out his words, almost all his processing power going directly towards keeping the charade going. “I-I’ve got to do fucking everything, h-huh-”

Gavin moans, hands clenching and unintentionally _ripping_ Hank’s shirt as he trembles, curses, moving—bucking his hips as hard as he can, clenching down with his insides twitching.

“ _Fuck, G-Gavin.”_ Hank’s left hand reaches up to hold Gavin’s face, thumb pressing against the scar on his nose, tip of his fingers tangling against the short hair. He’s all he can think about, and he fucks into him again as hard as he can, mumbling filth and _fuck’s_ and _yeah’s_ until his voice goes raw and hoarse.

His socked feet slide against the floor, and he can’t even see correctly, pawing at Gavin’s face, his cheeks, at the stubble of his jaw as he holds his head high, shoving he same fingers back inside his waiting, open mouth.

“ _Fuck-”_ Hank makes a sound like he’s been wounded, the tight coil of pleasure in his belly finally snapping. He climaxes so hard that tears roll from his eyes as he loses all consciousness for a second, his mind going blank as his hips uncontrollably buck against the tight, sloppy heat of Gavin’s insides.

It’s too much for Connor, the hot stream of Hank’s cum filling up his insides making him moan pitifully, thighs shaking and body jolting as he screams, bucking his hips as he sinks down once, twice—

He soft reboots, his head freely lolling to one side as Hank’s hands drop from his face. He can feel tears freely running down his cheeks, his chest heaving and his artificial lungs struggling for breath that he does not need. More clear liquid runs down his nose, and he sniffs, bowing his back to rest his forehead against the crook of Hank’s neck.

His insides twitch and Hank moans, exhausted and oversensitive. “God, oh my god, Con.”

Connor laughs, the sound of his own voice glitchy and fucked out. He hums in response, feeling like his own chest could burst, the intensity at which his thirium pump runs so high that it matches Hank’s rapid, thundering heartbeat.

“Yeah.” He wraps his shaky, uncoordinated arms around Hank, his overheated systems struggling to catch up.

Hank sighs, a shaky moan escaping his lips as he goes lax under Connor, moving to clumsily hold him as well.

“Fuck,” he eloquently says.

“Yeah,” Connor replies, laughing as he lazily cleans his face with Hank’s ruined shirt. Oh. Oops. He wasn’t sure he’d done that, but the evidence can clearly be felt against his cheek. “I’m… I’m sorry about the shirt, Hank.”

Hank wheezes out a laugh, still completely out of breath, wiggling his hips a little bit to move and slip from Connor’s insides. “Worth it.”

Connor can feel himself smile, a hazy little thing hidden against Hank’s neck. “I’m glad,” he mumbles against him, his thirium pump definitely beating out of control now.

Hank laughs again, moving to kiss the mess of his hair, both his hands moving up to try and undo the knot of the tie.

Connor stiffens, his cheeks burning with something akin to mortification as he sits back straight on his lap. “Wait, waitwait _wait-_ Hank!” Connor laughs breathlessly, softly pressing his palms against Hank’s face, keeping the fabric of the tie in place. “Stop!”

Hank stops, hands half on their way of completely undoing the knot on the back of his head. “Yeah?” He can’t erase the stupid smile off his lips. “What’s the hold up?”

Connor’s artificial breath hitches a bit. “Let me get _this_ out of my face first!” He can’t stop laughing, feeling giddy and satisfied, his happiness pulsing deep inside his core.

“It’s _not_ a good look on me!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for the lovely @Manicies, who asked for a follow up fic to [the cure for tonight's ills.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16459142) I hope it lives up to the hype! Thank you so much for trusting me ♥
> 
> I hope you guys like it. Kudos and comments are highly appreciated, let me know what you think!
> 
> find me in twitter @ [magpieq1693](https://twitter.com/magpieq1693)
> 
> Like my writing? Want to say thanks? ♥ Share a [kofi](https://Ko-fi.com/magpieq1693) with me!


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